


Jump In Head First

by Nakimochiku



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Date, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 13:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/850241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nakimochiku/pseuds/Nakimochiku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beverly and Alana are tired of seeing their friends alone, with no one to call their own. So they set them up...sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jump In Head First

“So I know this guy.” Bev says over a cup of chai latte, leaning forward in that conspiring way she gets when she has juicy gossip to spill.

“No.” Will answers, and doesn’t look up from the magazine someone had abandoned on the terrace table before hand.

Bev laughs, full bellied, and wipes away a pretend tear from under her eye. Will doesn’t see what’s so funny. “Relax Will! I wasn’t going to set you on a blind date or anything. He’s a psychiatrist for the criminally insane, I thought he might be of some help for your paper.”

“Oh.” Will flushes, and Bev grins. “Yes, uh, thanks that’d be very kind of you.”

*

“Hannibal?” Alana pokes her head into the kitchen, and speaks just loudly enough to be heard over the opera. Hannibal glances at her and continues shaving delicate slivers from the leg of pork he has before him. “My friend called me, and there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Hannibal pauses. He can’t quite recount the amount of conversations over the years that have started with those same words. They’d dwindled, recently. Now all his relationship conversations with Alana begin and end at “Please find somebody, I don’t want you to end up old and miserable. It’d be a waste.”

“Is this someone a matronly woman you found at the opera? Or perhaps a very young man who wouldn’t mind a....” he rolls his next words on his tongue. “Sugar daddy, if you will?”

Alana smiles. “Neither. He’s a writer, and he needs your help for a paper he’s doing.” She pops into the kitchen, pours herself a beer and saunters back out. “I told him you’re free on Thursdays, so expect him next week.”

*

When one says Psychiatrist for the criminally insane, Will pictures something like Jeremiah Arkham from Batman. Lanky, creepy, a weed grown in shadows. Hannibal Lecter is none of those things. Soft classical music curls around the office, while Hannibal sits by the window and sketches, glancing through it occasionally.

“Sorry to intrude.” Will mumbles. Hannibal glances up and gives Will a restrained smile.

“Mr Graham, I presume. Please take a seat.“ He tugs his waist coat, and rolls down his sleeves, trying to look more professional. Which is nigh on impossible, considering he’s already wearing a waist coat. Will wanders around the office a bit, feels woefully inadequate, and settles in before Hannibal, paper crumpled between his hands.

“I wrote this, and thought maybe I could ask you a few questions.”

*

Hannibal asks Will out for coffee on Saturday. Alana looks far too pleased when he tells her this. “Mr Graham had a fascinating take on old Freudian complexes with today’s views of psychopaths.” He says, miffed, and slices a bit of dragon fruit for her to taste. “It’s perfectly reasonable to want to talk to him.”

“Of course of course of course, did I say anything against it?” Alana sips at her beer, leaning smugly against the countertop, watching Hannibal arrange fruit artfully. “This is purely an intellectual business venture.”

Hannibal’s eyes narrow. He pauses. “You’re grinning.” Alana shakes with laughter. “That’s rather disconcerting.”

*

Saturday rolls around. Beverly rests on Will’s bed, watching him go through clothes at the back of the closet he hasn’t touched since college. She makes a valiant effort not to look too happy. “Why are you fussing like this is a date?”

“It’s not a date.” Will asserts firmly. “But I can’t look sloppy...Dr Lecter is so well dressed.” He looks mournfully at his closet. He settles eventually on slim dark jeans, a band t shirt and a vest over top. Beverly assures him it’s her favourite outfit on him. She pushes his glasses up his nose, artfully tousles his curls, and stands back to smile.

“Knock ‘im dead.” She cheer. Will gives her a weak smile that morphs into a frown.

“It’s not a date!” He moves to the door, whistling goodbye to his dogs.

“It’s just an expression!” Beverly shouts after him.

*

It’s totally a date. Will flushes at the realization half way through his second buttered croissant. They’ve spent more time talking about Will’s dogs, Hannibal’s cooking, Will’s childhood in Louisiana and Hannibal’s school days in France than they have on the reason they agreed to meet in the first place. The paper lay between them on the cafe table.

“This isn’t a date is it?” He asks, aware of what’s happening at last.

Hannibal blinks at him.  He glances at the near empty coffee mugs, the paper, their surroundings. “Not if you don’t want it to be.” He gives a small, controlled yet reassuring smile. “We are merely new friends, getting to know each other.

“Good. That’s good. Because I’m sick and tired of people not realizing I like my social life just the way it is,” Will pauses, studies Hannibal’s mouth. It’s tilted in amusement. “And I wouldn’t want to lead you on or anything...?”

“Let me guess. You have a pushy friend urging you to settle down?”

“Yes, Christ, you’d think she was my mother, the way she urges me to squeeze out kids.”

Hannibal laughs. It’s a dark rich sound, all the clichés of velvet and chocolate. Will finds himself laughing along with him.

*

They go on another not date. They complain about Alana and Beverly, laugh about old attempts to hook them up.

A German tourist, an ex intern, a porn star.

“A porn star?” Will repeats, incredulous.

Hannibal smiles at him, less restrained, showing hints of teeth. “I don’t know what Alana was thinking in regards to him.”

Hannibal takes him to the opera. And while not complete sold, Will concedes the soprano’s voice is beautiful. Will takes Hannibal to see his dogs, and holds out a lint roller for him when he announces its time to go home after a full hour of romping on the carpet with one of the younger additions.

They are good not dates. And when they kiss over Hannibal’s kitchen counter, half seasoned meat and a pan beneath them, they laugh, and remain good not dates.

*

“How’s help on your paper coming?” Beverly asks, folding over her laundry. Will snaps out a sheet and folds it over too, in crisp lines, smiling a little to himself.

“Good.” He says, flushing and looking away. “Really good.”

*

“So when am I going to get to meet Will Graham?” Alana broaches, finding somewhere to perch while Hannibal chops at bell peppers. He gives her a sharp look and she raises her hands to placate. “Purely intellectual curiosity, remember? He has a paper he’s writing?” She sips her beer. “Are you ever going to introduce me to him?”

Hannibal smiles. “Soon, I think.”

*

Hannibal and Will announce they’re dating, some two months later. A couple of people cheer. A couple more are dumbfounded. Alana and Beverly merely grin at each other and hi five.


End file.
